


Snapshots of the Hospital Wing

by insufferableknowitall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts Era, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableknowitall/pseuds/insufferableknowitall
Summary: The seven years at Hogwarts, as seen through visits to the Hospital Wing. Centers on Ron/Hermione with lots of other characters and friendship moments. Goes a bit off the whole Hospital Wing premise for seventh year, seeing as most of Hogwarts is blown up! VERY fluffy. Very canon compliant.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	1. 1st Year

**Author's Note:**

> FYI the "R" key on my computer was stuck for part of writing this. I *think* I fixed most of the mistakes but apologies in advance if there are random r's in the middle of words!

With a thud, she dropped the large stack of papers down onto the table by his bedside - a pile of her notes, which she had made two copies of for his sake, the homework assignments they’d been given that day, and a few of his textbooks, which Harry had handed off to her on his way to Quidditch practice. 

“All that? From one day?” Ron stared at her in disbelief, and grimaced at the stack, which seemed to appear larger by the minute. He’d finally agreed to going to Madam Pompfrey after the bite on his hand had begun to ooze eerily, and for a few sacred hours, had been relaxing with his hand covered in some odd gauze, grateful for the break from classes. 

But of course, Hermione never failed to make sure he was up to speed on his homework. 

“Yes,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the grimace on his face. “And if you’re going to look so disappointed, next time you wind up in here, I won’t bring you your homework and you’ll have to spend much longer getting caught up.”

He shook his head, but she saw his lips twitch upwards into a small smile as he mumbled, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She sat down on the stool beside his bed and let out a heavy sigh, pulling a book of her own out of her bag. “Harry’s at Quidditch practice,” she explained, “If you want to start on homework now, I’ll do it with you. You didn’t miss much in Charms, we’re still working on the Softening Charm - ”

“I’ve barely been here two hours and you’re already asking me to do homework with you?” He shook his head, “I’m injured, woman!” 

She narrowed her eyes at his hand, which, though bandaged, he seemed perfectly able to wave it around in the air with no pain at all. 

“I’m offering to help you, you know.”

He grinned and let out a laugh. “I’m seriously injured. You may just have to do my homework without me.”

“Ha, ha. Next time you end up in here, I’m definitely not letting you see my notes.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to keep myself out of trouble for the next seven years, huh?”

“I guess so.”

She opened up her book, a small smile on his face, and he reached over to grab the first page of her notes off the top of the stack. 

Unfortunately, for both of them, it was not their last time in the Hospital Wing - not just during their time at Hogwarts, but during that year. A few months later, Madam Pomfrey was startled in the middle of the night as the two of them came stumbling through the double doors, Ron limping slightly and Hermione dragging him along, clearly strained by his weight. 

“Ron’s been hurt - “

“Harry’s down below, with the Stone - “

“We’ve just talked to Dumbledore, he’s gone to get Harry, he told us to come here - “

“Harry will probably be here soon - “

“There was this giant chess piece, Ron was unconscious, he only just woke up and we ran up here as fast as we could - “

They erupted into a cacophony of explanations - Madam Pomfrey could barely keep up. “Quiet!” she demanded, raising a hand and eyeing the two of them. “Now slowly - what happened?” 

Thirty minutes later, after a lengthy explanation involving a rather gruesome game of chess, Madam Pomfrey had successfully mended the red-haired boy’s foot, which had appeared to be broken, and had already begun to tend to the dark haired, bespeckled boy, who had just arrived in the company of Albus Dumbledore. “Is he okay?” the other two questioned, as Harry Potter slept. 

“He’ll be okay,” Albus Dumbledore reassured. 

Hermione Granger sat by Ron Weasley’s side all night, the two of them worriedly watching Harry’s steady breathing in the bed across from Ron’s, until Madam Pomfrey gave him permission to leave and ushered him out.


	2. 2nd Year

The first time she was in the Hospital Wing that year, she had been covered in cat hair with frighteningly yellow eyes. The second time, she’d been petrified; frozen in place, unconscious. 

During her first stay, Ron and Harry had taken turns bringing her homework to the Hospital Wing, dutifully accepting the piles of homework handed to them by professors with her name on them. But the second time, the teachers stopped handing the boys her homework. They didn’t know when she’d wake up. What was the point of delivering her Charms assignments? 

Ron Weasley stood in front of Professor McGonagall’s desk, rocking backwards and forwards on his toes as he waited for his turn while she was answering Neville Longbottom’s numerous after-class questions. When Neville had finally exhausted his questions on the proper wand movement for transfiguring a pincushion to a porcupine, Professor McGonagall turned to Ron, eyebrows raised, surprised to see him standing there unaccompanied by his ever-present companion, Harry Potter. 

“Yes, Weasley?” she asked. 

“Erm, I was just wondering,” he began, staring at the ground, “I mean, I was thinking I could bring Hermione her homework. Just so she has it when she, you know, wakes up. I think she’d want it.” He looked up at McGonagall after finishing his sentence and was surprised to see her gaze soften so much. “I know we’re not supposed to visit the Hospital Wing,” he continued hurriedly, “Maybe you could bring it to her, I don’t have to go, I just think she’d be really upset if she woke up without it and last year she brought me my homework, so - ”

McGonagall cut him off by pushing a stack of papers into his hands. “Of course you can bring her homework,” she said, a sense of warmth in her voice that Ron had never heard there before, “I think...I think you’re correct in assuming she’d be quite upset to wake up without her missed assignments. “I’ll go with you. Would Potter like to come?”

Ron glanced behind himself. “I think he’s up in the dorm already,” he admitted, knowing full well that Harry was currently scouring the school for trails of spiders, due to Hagrid’s ominous clue, an activity that Ron had opted out of for the day after a frightening run in earlier with a rather large spider that, instead of leading them wherever Hagrid had wanted them to go, had crawled up Ron’s leg. 

“All right,” McGonagall nodded, making her way towards the door. “Come along then, Weasley, before curfew.” 

Before passing through the classroom doors, she turned, one more time, to look at the gangly red-haired boy with the bright red ears. “Miss Granger has a good friend in you, Weasley,” she said. His ears, predictably, grew even redder.


	3. 3rd Year

“I think we’re developing a bit of a pattern,” Hermione commented, placing a stack of Ron’s homework on his bedside table. Ron’s pile of homework continued to grow, untouched, as his third day in the hospital passed. His foot had been taking longer than usual to mend, per Madam Pomfrey’s standards, in part because they’d refused to tell her what had bit Ron for fear of compromising Sirius’s secret animagus form. 

“So does this mean I’ll be bringing you homework again next year?” he grimaced, eyeing the growing pile. “Least I’m conscious, right?”

“And yet, you haven’t touched your homework.”

He groaned. “Come on! It’s June! Can’t I just be done already?”

“Sure, if you want to fail your exams.”

“That’s what I have you for! To make sure I don’t!”

She glared at him, but cracked underneath his crooked grin. There was something in the normalcy of it that made her feel weak; vulnerable. 

“I’m worried,” she said quietly, glancing towards the door, afraid Harry would find his way there any moment. 

Ron raised an eyebrow in question, though he already knew what she was going to say. 

“It’s just…” she started, chewing on her lip, “I mean, it’s all happening, isn’t it? What if...what if You-Know-Who really does come back?”

Ron shook his head. “He won’t.” She raised her eyebrows in response. “I mean, how could he, right? Just because some rat-man escapes, doesn’t mean he’s going to rise.”

“But Harry said that Trelawny said - “

“Wait, hold on. You’re using Trelawny as a credible source? Hermione Granger, believing in seers?”

“Ha, ha. I’m serious, Ron.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the room to make sure nobody was listening before speaking again. “I know,” he said, “I just think...I dunno, what good is worrying about something that might not even happen going to do for us?”

Hermione frowned, but didn’t say anything back. This was one of the many areas that Ron and Hermione differed - she liked to be prepared. He didn’t think that way, not as much as her. 

Ron let out a loud groan and looked up at the ceiling, his face having turned inexplicably red. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I just thought. Speaking of that stupid rat-man. Sorry about, you know...blaming Crookshanks. Bloody cat was right all along.” He stared at the ceiling as he spoke, as if looking at her directly while apologizing would be much too painful. 

“Oh,” she said, waving a hand as if brushing it aside, “It’s all right. You couldn’t have known, and you were right to suspect that Crookshanks was trying to kill him - ”

“But I shouldn’t have been such a git to you about it,” he mumbled, finally looking her in the eyes, his face bright red. 

“It’s okay, I - ”

“Merlin, Hermione, just let me apologize. It’s painful enough as it is,” he added with a smirk. 

“All right,” she conceded, “Thanks.”

“Thanks for bringing me my homework,” he said, patting his hand on top of the pile of papers. 

“Even though you haven’t even touched it?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” he grinned, “And I’ve thought about touching it.”

She whacked him on the arm, and they continued bickering like that, back and forth until Harry appeared at the doorway, sweeping them up in his worries about Sirius. “Do you think he’s okay?” he whispered, accidentally knocking Ron’s foot as he brushed pass, causing Ron to screw up his face in pain. “Sorry!”

“Do you reckon he’ll write, once he’s safe?” Ron wondered. 

“I hope so,” Harry said. 

All they could do was wait and see.


	4. 4th Year

Despite the tumultuous events of the year, all three members of the trio had managed to avoid long-term stays in the Hospital Wing for the majority of it. Hermione had a few drop-ins, thanks to the teeth elongating jinx she’d been hit with and the letter full of bubotuber pus, but other than that, they’d spent most of the year clear of the Hospital Wing. That was, until the night after the fateful third task. 

Hermione, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill Weasley all sat around Harry’s bed while he slept soundlessly. It was growing late, the moon high in the sky, exhaustion plaguing all of their bodies. Madam Pomfrey huffed as she bustled around the room, but allowed them to stay, as Dumbledore had requested it. 

Mrs. Weasley let out a loud yawn, and Bill shot a worried glance at her. “You should go home and get some rest, Mum. Harry’ll be sleeping through the night, anyways. We can come back first thing in the morning.”

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “No, no, I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes up…” She sniffed loudly, tears welling in her eyes for the poor boy. 

“We can stay,” Ron offered almost immediately. 

“You two need sleep,” Mrs. Weasley began, but Ron cut her off. 

“We’ll go up to the dorms after you get back here. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to get any sleep anyways, I bet you ten galleons everyone in the dorms are awake and talking…”

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth in protest, but Bill put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “He won’t wake up until at least tomorrow afternoon,” he said, eyeing Harry. “Madam Pomfrey said so. She gave him quite a dose.”

Tiredly, Mrs. Weasley conceded. “Fine,” she sniffed, “We’ll go back, just for a few hours, we’ll be back here by sunrise, so you two can get some sleep…”

Hermione nodded and Ron called, “Night, Mum.” Bill led his mother to the door. She stole one last glance back at the sleeping boy in the bed, tears welling in her eyes once more. “He’ll be asleep,” Bill reassured. 

She couldn’t help but worry. 

The Hospital Wing was eerily quiet; the only sound was Harry’s steady breathing and the occasional rustle of Madam Pomfrey fixing bed sheets. It was dark, too, so Ron didn’t notice the tears falling down Hermione’s face until she let a sniff escape, breaking the silence. 

“Hey,” he said, looking at her with wide, worried eyes. “What’s up?”

She nearly laughed at the absurdity of the question. Nearly everything was wrong. Voldemort was back. Cedric was dead. Harry was hurt. She didn’t need to answer for him to know everything that was on her mind. 

She felt him place a steading hand on her shoulder, gently, awkwardly arm’s length away. “It’s okay,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze, the quiver in his voice revealing that he himself wasn’t sure of his own words. 

“It’s not,” she whispered back. 

“Yeah,” he said, “I...I reckon it’s not.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“It’s what you’re supposed to say when somebody’s upset,” he admitted in a quiet voice. She shook her head at him, and then, without warning, flung her arms around his neck, nearly strangling him in a tight hug. He felt her shake with tears against him, and slowly, he brought his hands to her back, patting her gently. He swallowed, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest at her touch, just as he had been trying to ignore the stabs of jealousy he felt anytime she talked to Krum. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, finally pulling away, her voice watery and thick. “I’m just...scared.”

“Me too,” Ron admitted, afraid to look her in the eyes. 

She sighed and glanced at Harry’s sleeping form. They sat in silence for a few moments, inches apart, both watching Harry’s chest rise and fall rhythmically. 

Then, Hermione spoke. “I can’t go home,” she whispered, her voice sounding distant, as if they belong to somebody else. 

Ron turned to her and frowned. “What d’you mean?”

“My parents,” she said, eyes beginning to well once again with tears, “He’ll be...he’ll be after muggle borns, that’s for sure, I don’t want them to be in danger…”

“They won’t be,” Ron said, this time much more fiercely, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “We’ll make sure of it, okay? And if you need to, you can come stay with us at The Burrow.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re always welcome there. Hell, your parents can come stay too, we’ll make room.”

She smiled at him through the tears. “That’s very nice of you.”

“What can I say. I’m a nice guy.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes in response. But Ron took it as a win - she’d stopped crying. 

“Things are going to change now, aren’t they?” she whispered into the night. 

“Reckon so,” he said back. 

Their words felt heavy, ominous in the night. She reached out both hands: one towards Harry’s sleeping figure, and one towards Ron. She gripped both their hands, tightly - one covering Harry’s limp, sleeping hand, the other intertwining with Ron’s. Gently, he squeezed back.


	5. 5th Year

He arrived in the Hospital Wing before he even fully comprehended where he was - one minute, he’d been entangled by the tentacles of a brain, stuck in a state of confused amusement, the next, Dumbledore had burst through the door and then himself and the others were rushed off, out of the Department of Mysteries, and back to Hogwarts. It was all a blur, not fully coming into focus until Madam Pomfrey forced a bubbly liquid down his throat and he felt the effects of the charm wear off, his brain become sharper by the minute, the giggly, childish feeling replaced with a complete state of fear. 

“What’s going on?” he asked immediately, struggling to get out of bed but held back by the sharp pains on his arms. Across from him, he saw his little sister, grimacing in pain with a bandaged ankle. Next to Ginny was Luna, sitting up in her bed, slightly wobbly and attempting to stand. And beside him was Hermione, motionless on the bed as Madam Pomfrey bustled around her, murmuring spells underneath her breath.

“What’s happened to her?” Ron demanded, wincing as he sat up, “Where’s Harry? And Neville?”

Only one of his questions was answered immediately - not before long, Neville stumbled into the room, accompanied by Professor McGonagall, who wore a worried, pale expression on her face. Neville’s nose was swelled to at least twice it’s normal size, and his front was covered with blood. 

Madam Pomfrey waved a wand and the bed on the other side of Hermione’s was soon ready for Neville, equipped with an assortment of potions on the bedside table. “Drink the purple one,” she directed, not taking her eyes from Hermione, who still lay motionless. 

Ron wracked his brain for memories of what had happened. He could remember the Death Eaters, the shattering glass orbs tumbling around them as they ran. Bursting through a door with Ginny and Luna, the panic of realizing that they’d been separated from Harry, Hermione, and Nerville. Getting hit with a curse. Everything becoming inexplicably funny. And then the brains - he shuddered at the memory; the tentacle lacerations on his arms still burned with pain. 

Neville struggled against McGonagall as she led him to the bed. “Harry’s still dere!” he screamed through his bloody nose, sending another wave of panic through Ron’s body. 

“Drink the potion, boy,” Madam Pomrfrey chastised as she poured the contents of a golden colored portion through Hermione's parted lips. Ron was relieved to see the steady rise and fall of her chest - she was alive. He had no idea what had happened to her, nor really what had happened to any of them. It chilled him to wonder where Harry was. 

His body was too heavy to do much else - sleep pulled at his eyelids, likely from something Madam Pomfrey had given to him, and he lost track of time. It wasn’t until the sun began to rise that he slipped back into consciousness to the whisper of his name. 

“Ron.” 

He opened his eyes to find nearly all of them there - Luna, standing near the bedrails, Neville, his nose now returned to normal size, pacing the length of the Hospital Wing. Ginny was rubbing sleep from her eyes, still restrained to the bed across from him, her foot in a cast. And then there was Hermione, peering at him from her bed to his right. 

“Where’s Harry?” he asked immediately. And they all launched into various explanations of the events of the night. Harry was still missing, though apparently, he had been brought back by Dumbledore and was safe, for now. 

“And what happened to us?” Ron asked. His memory was severely foggy. 

“Well, you got hit with some curse that made you act like a nutter,” Ginny commented, “And you thought it was a good idea to grab one of those brain things.”

Ron glanced down at the lacerations on his arm. 

“And the rest of us were hit by spells too.” Ginny shrugged, as if this was just all in a day’s work. “Broken ankle. One of them punched Neville in the face.”

“Dunno what hit you, Hermione,” Neville commented. Hemione still had not been able to get out of bed. “You were out cold most of the time. For a moment there, Harry and I thought you were...well, glad you’re okay.” 

Ron blanched and whipped his head around to face Hermione, nearly rupturing one of the blisters Madam Pomfrey had healed in the process. Hemione was rather pale, and looked smaller than usual in the large hospital bed. 

“What happened to you?” Ron asked, nearly demanded, staring at Hermione. “Are you okay? Who did it to you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Ginny smirk. 

“I’m okay now,” Hemione said, though her voice was slightly shaky. “You're the one who got nearly strangled to death by a brain, if you want to worry about anyone, worry about yourself.”

Ginny’s smirk grew slightly larger. 

The sun rose higher in the sky and with each minute that past, the more worried they grew for Harry. 

Luna was the first one to be cleared. 

She’d only had a few cuts and scrapes, and was nearly fine once she came to. Neville was next, once Madam Pomfrey was sure his nose had stopped bleeding. 

The other three were made to stay longer. 

Ginny took respite in the fact that she wasn’t as badly off as Ron or Hermione - at least she could get out of bed, at least, when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking. The next night, Ginny felt so much better that she was able to lift herself out of bed, once Madam Pomfrey had left the wing, and nestled onto the foot of Hermione’s bed, to better talk to the other two. 

“I’ll be out of here tomorrow,” Ginny whispered definitively, glancing around for Madam Pomfrey. “And if Harry hasn’t been here to visit by then, I’ll track him down and drag him here by the ears if I have to. He’s not allowed to wallow alone in the dorms.”

“He’s got Neville,” Ron commented. 

Ginny snorted. “Yes, and when Neville stopped by after dinner, he said that he hadn’t seen Harry since he left the Hospital Wing.”

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another and shared an expression of concern. 

“I’ll make him talk to us,” she said determinedly. And Ginny did follow through. The next day, all six of them sat by Ron and Hermione’s beds. Harry read from the Daily Prophet as they scoffed at the change in narrative the newspaper had taken, Harry suddenly a savior in the public’s eyes as opposed to a nutter the previous week. 

They stayed there until late in the evening, Neville and Luna being the only ones to leave for a brief moment when they offered to grab the rest food from the Great Hall (an offer that made Ron exclaim so excitedly he caused one of the nearly healed lacerations on his arm to crack, dripping blood onto the sheets, much to Madam Pomfrey’s annoyance). 

Eventually, those who could trickled up to bed. Luna left, almost unannounced, loftily stating, “I’m tired,” and proceeding to drift towards the door without saying anything else. Neville and Ginny made their way back to the Gryffindor dorm next, eyeing the trio, wondering what conversations they’d have once the others were out of earshot. 

“Ten more minutes!” Madam Pomfrey called, wagging a finger at Harry. “Visitor’s hours are ending.”

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, as he began to gather up his things, “Harry, are you...are you okay?” Her voice cracked slightly when she asked. Ron glanced nervously between the two of them, afraid they’d tip Harry over the edge, afraid he’d end the night yelling at them.

Harry shrugged. Both were surprised at the calmness in his voice when he spoke. “Well, Dumbledore sorta let me...destroy his office, so - ”

“Dumbledore let you what?” Hermione gasped, while Ron shot her a look that said, now’s not the time to lecture him. 

A sheepish grin passed over Harry’s face as he shrugged again, and then the melancholy, empty expression fell upon him once more. “I’m all right,” he said. 

“Don’t lie,” Hermione chided, “You shouldn’t be alone.”

“You wanna stay here tonight?” Ron said, with a grin. “I’ll hide you under my sheets from Pomfrey.”

“Think I’ll pass,” Harry laughed, “But thanks.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and nodded at both of them. “I’ll be here in the morning, all right?”

Hermione nodded, biting her lip to keep the tears from falling. “Sure,” Ron spoke. 

“Night.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, mate.”

Once Harry was through the double doors, Hermione let out a sniff. The room was quiet and empty, a slight chill floating in through one of the open windows. 

“He’ll be okay,” Ron said, groaning a bit as he turned on his side to face her, the cuts and scars stinging on his side. “He has us.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. Yes, he does.” 

A moment of silence passed. “Hey Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“I dunno what would have happened if...if that curse had hit you...just...I’m glad you’re okay, alright?”

In the darkness, he saw a slight smile play on her face. 

“I’m glad you're okay, too, Ron.”


	6. 6th Year

He woke up slowly, in a haze. The world edged into his vision in pieces, rather than all at once, voices trickling in as if through a filter, as if someone is slowly turning the volume up, light seeping in through the cracks until eventually, he blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at an a white partition in a nearly empty Hospital Wing. 

He could tell it as evening by the light from the window, a dim, orange glow drifting in as the sun set. He could hear voices outside the Hospital Wing, students, he thought, returning to dormitories. 

The last thing he could remember was sitting in Slughorn’s office, dazed and confused. Bits and pieces of memories floated through his head - his parents had been here, that was for sure, his siblings, and Harry. He remembered their worried voices, and if he wasn't so dazed, he could have sworn that Hermione had been there too. 

But they weren't on speaking terms. He must have been dreaming. 

He was rather surprised, then, when he turned his head to the right and saq a neat pile of papers and books topped with a note - he recognized the handwriting immediately. “I’m really sorry,” it read, in her small, cursive letters, “Brought you my notes. Hermione.”

He was even more surprised when the door to the Hospital Wing creaked open and there she was, more notes clutched in her hands, eyes widening as she saw that he was awake. She stopped in her tracks, flushed, mouth slightly open. They both spoke at the same time. 

“You’re awake.”

“Hey.”

She blinked and a single tear dripped down her cheek, which she tried to hide behind the papers as she hurried to his bedside and added them to the stack. “I just brought you - ”

“Thanks,” he cut her off, smiling. He’d been trying to talk to her ever since Christmas break. The months of silence had been excruciating, though he knew when it came down to it, it was because of him. He glanced at the door behind Hermione, praying that the moment of privacy couldn't be ruined by the appearance of any of his family members, or a hundred times worse, Lavender Brown. 

“You can sit,” he said, a stupid grin still plastered on his face at her appearance, motioning towards one of the manys stools by his bedside. 

“Should I get Madam Pomfrey, do you think?”

Ron shrugged. He reckoned she was probably right, considering he still wasn't a hundred percent sure of what had happened to him, but didn’t want to lose the moment. He’d picked up enough pieces of conversation to know it had been something to do with poison, and he felt okay, so he said, “Nah. I feel fine.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly disbelieving, but sat gingerly onto the stool anyways. 

He stole a glance directly at her - her eyes were welling with tears, and she stared at the ground, afraid to make eye contact. 

They both spoke at the same time, again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

He grinned and she smiled through the tears, which only made them spill out of her eyes faster. 

“I just...oh, Ron, you could have died, and we aren't even... weren't even friends, and I was just being silly, if you had...if anything had happened to you…”

She put her hands over her face and shook her head. 

“‘M alright,” he said, his expression softening, “I’m here, yeah?”

“But, it’s just...I was being so stupid!” she removed her hands from her face and looked him in the eyes for the first time. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, to wipe the tears from underneath her big, brown eyes. But, as always, he restrained himself. 

“I just...I’m sorry,” she said again, holding a hand up to stop him from blurting out an apology in tandem. “Let me finish, Ron. I...I mean, you’re allowed to...to date whoever you want. It’s not like...I had no right to treat you...we're just...friends.” Her final word hung in the air precariously. 

Perhaps it was the remaining traces of Sleeping Draught in his veins that made him lose restraint a bit. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them: “That’s what I tried to tell myself after the Yule Ball. ‘Bout you and Krum.”

He felt his ears go red, but in that moment, he didn’t seem to care. 

Hermione stared at him with her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, shocked at the confession he’d just put out into the world. 

“Been a prat anyways,” he continued, now looking down at his hands, the blush spreading to his cheeks as he realized what he had just admitted, “Shouldn’t have said all that rubbish to you.”

“I shouldn't have pelted you with birds,” she mumbled in response. 

“Nah, reckon I deserved that,” he said, with a slight smile, though the thought of the birds still made his skin prickle. He swore under his breath, then added, “It’s just...stupid. I only did it to…” He cut himself off this time. 

“To what?” she asked quietly, after a moment of silence. Her eyes bore into his. He couldn’t lie to her. 

“To...makeyoujealous,” he admitted in a quiet voice, stringing the words together in hopes that they wouldn't have as much impact. He could feel her staring at him and he glanced down at his hands. “Let’s just...can we just forget it? Go back to being friends?”

“You say that like it’s easy,” she smiled. 

Willing his cheeks to return to their natural color, he stretched a hand out towards her. “We'll start over,” he said, with much more confidence than he felt, “Nice to meet you. Ron Weasley.”

Without warning, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her tear-stained face in his chest, flattening him against the bed. 

“This is the part where you’re supposed to tell me I have dirt on my nose,” he said weakly, which only made her sob harder. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. 

“It’s just...you could have died, I’m so sorry!” she blubbered. 

“It’s all right, Hermione, really,” he said. 

She finally pulled away and looked at him, narorwing her eyes as if trying to decipher whether he was lying or not, if he really forgave her. 

If she stayed that close to him for much longer, her wide eyes boring into his and her warm breath on his face, he was afraid of what might happen. 

He pulled away, just slightly. 

“I promise, Hermione,” he said fiercely, “It’s all right. We'll.. We'll move forward from this, yeah?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “Yes, I think we will.”

She began to pack up her bag, pulling the strap over her chest. “I’m glad you were here,” he blurted out, cheeks turning redder, “Y'know. When I woke up.”

“I’m glad you woke up,” she said back, biting her lip and smiling slightly. 

“I’ll read your notes tonight,” he added, patting the stack by his bed, “Promise.”

She snorted. “Now that I know is a lie.”

He grinned. “Bring my homework tomorrow? Please?”

“Sure, Ron.”

As she made her way toward the door, he called after her: “Hey, Hemione?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad we're friends again.”

She smiled a watery smile. “Me too.”

And, much to her surprise the next day, he did read her notes that night. And finish his homework.


	7. 7th Year

The Hospital Wing was in ruins. 

The hours after the battle had passed in a blur - teary hugs, piles of bodies, restless sleep in the packed dormitories. When the trio woke, it was evening. 

Like zombies, they traipsed through the wounded castle. Blackened holes lined the walls like bruises, rubble was strewn throughout their path, people wandered aimlessly around corridors. 

It was Ron who suggested they do something to help. He couldn’t take it much longer; winding around corners and finding frightened, unrecognizable faces. The piles of rubble that towered so high, he feared there were bodies underneath. Piles like the one that crushed Fred. 

Harry disappeared, as he had for many of the disjointed hours that followed the fall of Voldemort. Ron and Hermione watched as he looked at them apologetically and slipped underneath his invisibility cloak. “You can come with, if you want,” he spoke, his voice a whisper in their ears. 

It was tempting, to hide from the world. They understood why Harry was doing it - nearly every time someone saw his face, they’d bombard him with gratitude, with whoops and cheers, with questions about what exactly happened while they were on the run. They knew he didn’t want that, knew the piles of bodies were weighing on his shoulders like barbells. “Think I’ll walk the grounds,” he continued, “See if there’s anything I can do without...you know, being seen.” 

The reactions to Ron and Hermione’s presence hadn’t been nearly as extreme - perhaps, for Ron, he was shielded in an odd sort of way by the death of his brother; people were afraid to come too close to grief, preferred to keep an eye on it from a few steps away. 

“I want to find my family,” Ron said, glancing around, “See if...if they need anything.” 

Hermione stood between the boys, glancing back and forth (or rather, glancing slightly to the left of Harry, as he was no longer visible and she wasn’t quite sure where he stood). “Do you need me to go with you, Harry?” she asked him, quieting her voice. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m okay,” he reassured. “I think...I think I want to be alone.”

“All right, then.”

“See you guys soon.”

They couldn’t see him walk away, but could hear his footsteps, noticed debris kicked out of his path.

Ron took Hermione’s hand in his. He squeezed her hand so he didn’t have to say the words aloud for her to understand - he needed her there. He couldn’t stand to be alone. He was afraid he’d break, crumple into debris and scatter all over the ruined castle. 

“Let’s find your parents,” Hermione said quietly. Together, they made their way through winding corridors and towards the Great Hall. 

There, they found the Weasley family, and nearly everybody else who was up and about. Members of Dumbledore’s Army were everywhere, those that were left standing: Dean and Seamus were there, both huddled into a corner, examining one another’s injuries. The Patil twins sat together at what had once been the Ravenclaw table, heads pressed against each other, tears flowing steadily from Pavarti’s face. Hannah Abbot sat with Neville, listening to an account of how he slayed the snake. Luna sat chattering to a few house elves who had remained in the Hall after the battle. 

The majority of the Weasley family sat at the Gryffindor table, huddled together like one large unit. 

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny demanded the moment she saw them, standing and pulling both of them into a hug. 

“He wanted to be alone,” Hermione whispered into Ginny’s ear. 

“Brooding, I suspect.”

Hermione gave Ginny and small smile. Beside her, Ron’s body felt limp, but his hand still gripped hers tighter than ever. 

Hugs were exchanged all around, like they had the night before, although this time, everyone was much more awake - it no longer felt like a nightmare, it felt real, which was simultaneously so much worse and so much better. Fred was gone. But so was Voldemort. 

But so were Lupin, Tonks, countless students. Fred. Fred, Fred, Fred. 

Ron looked at his brother, George - all that was left of Fred. George had circles underneath his eyes, evidence that he hadn’t slept much. Mrs. Weasley wore matching circles, beside him. 

Dragging Hermione along behind him, he marched towards his brother and pulled him into a hug. Ron was much taller than George, at eighteen, and buried George’s face into his chest. 

George didn’t resist, and for that, Ron was grateful. 

“We should do something,” Ron blurted out, his words sounding much more desperate than he expected, “Help. Clean up. Something. Is anyone doing anything?”

“Madam Pomfrey’s been having people collect whatever’s left of her supply,” Ginny spoke, “Hospital Wing got destroyed, mostly. But people have been finding stuff underneath rubble. Wiggenweld and Dreamless Sleep and stuff. Bill and Percy have been helping her since last night.”

“Brilliant,” Ron said, willing his voice to sound more steady than it felt. “Let’s go.”

And with Hermione in tow behind him, he hurried out of the Hospital Wing, trying to run from the feeling of dread that was permeating his body. 

Fred was gone. 

“Ron, stop!”

They’d reached the destroyed corridor of the Hospital Wing and Ron hadn’t even noticed when Hermione’s hand had slipped from his, hadn’t noticed how fast and clumsily he was running. She had tears in her eyes. “You’re...you’re going too fast, Ron.” 

Yet it was because he was going so fast that he was still holding it all together. And when he looked at her, standing a few feet away from him, slightly out of breath with watery eyes, he broke. 

In a blur of tears and strangled sobs, she pulled him away from the center of the hallway, towards one of the many broom closets. She was the only thing that felt real, her small hands gripping his arms, the rest of the world a horrible nightmare that he prayed he would wake up from. “Ron,” she said, her voice choked and distant, “I’m sorry, Ron, I’m so sorry.”

And then his lips were on hers, hungry and desperate. It was the only thing he could think to do, the only thing that made any sense. 

She responded in kind, pulled him back so she was pressed against a rickety shelf, let him lift her up and seat her upon it, pressed her chest into his so they could feel one another’s heart beats. They kissed the tears from one anothers cheeks. 

“I love you,” he said, and though he’d said it before, in the off-handed sort of way he’d say it to a best friend, it felt so much different this time. 

“I love you too,” she said back, breathlessly. 

“Always have.”

“Me too.”

Perhaps it was minutes later, or hours - neither was keeping track. But eventually, after their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, after their tears had dried and they’d broken apart, Ron spoke. “Hey,” he said, looking at one of the shelves above their heads. “Isn’t that Wiggenweld potion?”

The rows above their heads were lined with Madam Pomfrey’s storage of healing potions, glistening and glowing in the darkness.


End file.
